Customer Service
by KarToon12
Summary: One-shot: While working the graveyard shift at Toys r' Us, an employee waits on a customer who looks faintly familiar...


The graveyard shift is the one span of time that an employee either loves or hates to see on their weekly schedule. On the one hand, it means you'll hardly see anyone, have mostly-free reign to goof off, and basically get paid for doing nothing. On the other hand, it could also mean minutes feeling like hours, and a waste of time and energy, along with plenty of sleep deprivation…and "interesting" people wandering in at odd hours of the night.

…tonight would prove to be an "interesting" night.

Carol didn't mind it too much; not really. When you're 20, out of high school, and not concerned much about college or trying to expand your small circle of friends, it didn't much matter what shift was handed to her. All it meant was some extra cash to save for a potential art school she couldn't decide upon, as well as immerse herself in a comic book. Or browse through the action figures. Working at Toys r' Us had its benefits, especially to someone with an active imagination and lore for collecting.

She stifled a yawn as she peeked at her watch and glanced up for the 12th time to see if there was anything worth her attention. And like always, the isles remained empty; the only eye-catcher being the new display assembled by the night crew a few days ago. She had to admit, it was pretty clever; turning plain old shelving into a mock up of the Tardis to house their new shipment of Dr. Who figurines.

"It'll never fly", said Dave, the 20-something guy from the videogame department. The night the display was assembled, he was already crossing his arms and voicing his opinion in his usual know-it-all attitude that Carol had come to groan at.

"I mean, come on", he shrugged, "It's a British show. How many people are gonna' know what the hell it even is, much less watch it?"

Carol had quietly raised her hand, "You'd be surprised. It IS a famous show, though. I've watched it a few times on YouTube." She jerked a thumb at the fake Tardis, " 'Sides, if anything, it draws attention."

To that, Dave just sighed and shook his head; mumbling something about "weird corporate decisions", and that was the end of the argument. Presently, she was still staring at the quaint little blue police box and the figures inside it; a tiny smirk playing across her lips. She couldn't help but imagine jumping into the thing and being whisked away on an adventure. Any place would be better than where she was right now, and it would certainly be better than curious customers being drawn to the display, but not taking home any toys along with them. Perhaps Dave was right in his assumption. The man in question was manning his own register; adjusting his glasses as he geared up to play the same Guitar Hero demo for the fifth time that night. His back was to her and the rest of the store, but she could still see his growing boredom in his sagging shoulders. She turned back to her comic and let another yawn escape her; her eyes drooping a bit…this was shaping up to be a looong night…

A sudden, loud cough startled Carol to attention, and she whipped her head up to see that a customer had entered the store. Internally, she groaned, embarrassed that she was so focused on her comic that she hadn't heard him come in. Maybe she was more tired than she thought? But she took some solace in knowing that at least she wasn't the only one not paying attention; the manager at the service desk was too engrossed in a phone call to notice him either. With that in mind, it was the perfect opportunity for a shoplifter to make a move.

"Better keep an eye on this guy", she thought; setting down her reading material. It wouldn't do to look uninterested in front of a customer…and it wasn't like she had anything better to do anyway.

The man was relatively tall and thin, and Carol couldn't help but cock an eyebrow at the brown, pinstripe suit he was wearing; you didn't see that too often. You also didn't see too many people top off their suit with a shirt and tie, but decide to wear converse sneakers instead of dress shoes. Very weird. And his brown hair just added to his odd flare; frizzed up like he had used a bit too much hair gel that morning. A half-eaten banana was clutched in his right hand, and he downed the rest of it in one large bite-smirking as he shoved the peel into his pocket to be thrown away later.

Very weird indeed.

Any experienced store clerk can tell you that there's just something about the night time that attracts all the wierdos. Carol thought no different, as she observed the odd fellow in a reserved silence. For his part, the man kept his hands shoved in his pockets as he moseyed around, in a manner that was a bit lackadaisical, and yet still attentive, if that was even possible. Clearly, he wasn't looking for anything in particular…or if he was, he hid it well. And she wasn't about to go over either-if he wanted something, he could ask her himself.

She wasn't about to, that is…until they caught each other's eye. His skimming of the area finally made her fall into his line of vision, and she realized she must've been giving him a hard stare, for he quirked an eyebrow in confusion. Quickly, she put on a smile and curtly nodded in that universal sign that says, "I see you, but I don't have anything to say to you." The man must've gotten the message, for he gave an ear to ear grin in kind, even throwing in a quick wave before returning his hand to his pocket. And it was in that moment that Carol got the strangest feeling that there was something familiar about the guy…but she couldn't place what.

But she was quickly snapped from her thoughts when the gentleman swiveled around to face the Tardis display…and his eyes suddenly grew as big as saucers; eyebrows shooting up as his jaw dropped. And although she couldn't hear him, she could've sworn she saw him mouth a spastic, "what, what?" In a matter of seconds, he was rooting through every figurine on the shelves; prodding and examining each piece of merchandise as if he just found the Holy Grail. To that, Carol jumped just a bit. The man seemed so tired and bored before; to suddenly see him so excited and animated like that-she couldn't help but be spooked. What got into him?

Just then, the odd fellow, who had his back to Carol at that point, began to root through his pockets. There was a flash of something shiny as he pulled something out, but his actions were too quick for her to see what the object was exactly. He glanced around, making sure he wasn't being watched, before hunching over a tad and pulling something off the shelf. But clearly, he was too preoccupied to remember that Carol was nearby, watching his every move. And to her, every move sent off one more red flag of a shoplifting in progress. More quiet than a ninja, the clerk slowly slunk away from her register and began her approach. Late in the night or not, she'd catch this cheeky thief right in the act. Maybe she'd even get a raise for it?

Although, the more she snuck closer; preparing her ambush, the more she thought through the situation. Most of the merchandise was too big to fit in anyone's pockets, and his jacket was buttoned up tight, so shoving things in his coat was out. AND, he was presently the only customer in the store, so it's not like he had anyone to distract any of the help with. So, either he was the world's dumbest criminal, or he had no mischievous intentions to begin with. But that still didn't explain his downright odd behavior. At that point, he had even begun to whistle…or, it SOUNDED like whistling anyway.

Sighing, and pulling a strand of hair out of her face, Carol took a large step forward-determined to solve this little mystery once and for all.

"My curiosity's gonna' get me killed someday", thought the clerk. She gulped, adjusted her glasses, and finally spoke, "Uh…can I help you, sir?"

Not even before all the words escaped her lips, the man spun around-not expecting the young woman to suddenly be standing next to him. His dark brown eyes were wide with surprise for only a moment, before his mouth twitched up into that silly grin again.

"Oh, 'ello there", he chirped, before standing to full height. Immediately, Carol was taken aback at how tall he was. He seemed shorter from a distance, so to realize she actually only came up to his chest was an eye opener to say the least. He must've realized how imposing he looked, for he chuckled and took a small step back to give them more breathing room, before speaking again, "I'm sorry. Whaja' say again?"

Quirky as he was, the clerk couldn't help but smile at his raised brow and cheeky grin, "Do ya' need help finding anything?"

His smile lessened a bit as he glanced down; Carol following his gaze. A tiny figure of Martha Jones was in one hand; a slim, silver object in the other. She guessed it must've been a pen, although she couldn't fathom what the soft, blue light was on the end of it-probably a reading light of some kind. With the silence dragging, he finally mumbled an awkward, "Um…" before putting the doll back on the shelf and sliding the pen into a pocket, "Uh, no. No; just…browsing."

It took a moment, but after fully processing what he said, and more importantly, HOW he said it, Carol determined the gentleman was British. True, that was kind of a shallow form of judgment-who knows where the guy was actually from. But there was no denying the thick accent. She had no time to mull on that, however, for he suddenly spoke again; his eyes darting back to the display a moment, "You folks wouldn't happen to have any little shops 'round here, would you?"

The clerk blinked in confusion; THAT was an odd question, "Uh…no. Not that I know of. There IS a mall farther up the road."

She was about to give him directions when he grimaced a bit and shook his head, "Bah…why you folks hafta' make ev'rything so big? Small n' simple's th' way to go."

Not expecting the retort, Carol could only shrug, "Don't blame me-I didn't make it that way."

The man sighed, but threw in a smirk, "Nah, I don't blame you for nothin'." He turned back to scrutinize the fake Tardis again, " 'Sides, you folks catch enough flack for not havin' what people want. Am I right?"

The clerk folded her arms and rolled her eyes, "That's an understatement. There's only so much we can do." She threw in a shrug, "Guess some people are just that impatient…or greedy."

At that moment, her eyes widened as she flinched; catching her last word too late. It wasn't very practical to vent your underlying frustration about your job WHILE you were at work…and certainly not to a customer, lest they get angry. Maybe the night WAS getting a bit too long for her? But to her surprise, the man didn't even bat an eyelash at her comment. Instead, he actually replied, "Don't I know it."

The young woman fully smiled at that point, relieved that he didn't take her comment the wrong way. Finally convinced that he wasn't out to try anything funny, she leaned against a corner of the plywood police box; happy to have someone new to talk to.

"So, if you hate big stores", she asked, "Why're you here?"

The gentleman had since gone back to rummaging through the toys-looking more curious than ever, "Gettin' kinda' personal, aren't we?"

Carol blushed, "…just curious."

The man sighed wilst making an odd stare at a miniature Captain Jack, "Just a bit of a holiday is all…kinda' lost me way and found myself here."

The clerk couldn't help but notice him take a gulp at a tiny Rose Tyler starring back at him, as he quietly added in, "…was never here before."

Although Carol didn't understand why he suddenly grew quiet, her eyes softened a bit at his predicament. The new guy in town, all alone, with no one to bounce a conversation? She knew that all too well…and she sorta' knew his face too…from somewhere…

"First time in the States?" she found herself asking. At that, the man faced her again; brow raised. She continued with a wry smile, "I recognized your accent."

A second later, he let out an earnest laugh, "You're familiar with th' Queen's English then; good ear." He tilted his head a tad, "Nah, I've been 'cross the pond plenty times before. I do my bit a' traveling." He turned back to the display, "Some places better than others."

His last statement worried her a bit, but she tried not to show it, "Well, I hope you've been enjoying your time here. Sorry to say I'm not the best ambassador."

While she spoke, the gentleman pulled out a pair of glasses from another pocket, most likely to read the small print on the back of the box he was holding. Although his eyes were focused on reading the profile of a Cyberman, he still answered her, "Oh no, you're doin' just fine. Much better than other people I've met, trust me."

The young woman raised a brow; well that was…good, she guessed. She then let out a sigh, deciding that she'd give this guy something to talk about when he went home. And to make a good impression, that started with the proper introductions. She fully turned around to face him, "My name's Carol, by the way."

"Carol, eh?" the man replied. He looked at her a moment, smiling, "Nice to meet you."

There was a moment's pause, before she shrugged, "And you are?"

Suddenly, the gentleman froze in place for a second, his smile dropping, as if he was trying to figure out what to say. But a moment later, the smirk was back, as he responded, "…Smith…John Smith."

The young woman crossed her arms, getting a small feeling that the man was lying. Seriously, "John Smith?" WAY too generic of a name. Never the less, she tried to play it cool-at least it was better than calling him "sir" or "mister" constantly. Taking a step back, she watched as he twiddled another figure between his fingers. Seeing her cue, she piped up, "I take it you're a fan?"

Mr. Smith's eyes twitched upward, "Fan?"

"Yeah, of Doctor Who", she clarified.

Comprehension seemed to dawn, for the man nodded in understanding, "Oh, oh yeah…" He starred down at the tiny Dalek cupped in his hand; mouth going flat, "…a big fan…"

Carol chuckled, "I figured as much. You're the first person I've seen who's actually taken an interest in this stuff. Most people just breeze past it."

Mr. Smith took one last look at the tiny model, before returning it to its rightful place, "Well, I'm not most people."

THAT was an understatement, the clerk thought. She found herself wondering why she was still hanging around, for clearly, she couldn't help him with anything. But there was just something about the guy she couldn't put her finger on…that hair…those eyes…she knew him from somewhere, but where?

Just then, the man broke the silence; scratching the back of his head, "So…do YOU watch the show?"

Carol looked at him in surprise, before blushing a tad, "Um…a little. There's a lot of episodes I missed, though." She dug her heel into the floor, "but I watch it when I find time. A lot more people in the States probably should-they don't know what they're missing."

Mr. Smith grinned, "No…no they don't." He then turned back to the display once more; his eyes suddenly catching sight of a figurine of the Doctor. The doll smiled down at the clerk and customer from his seat atop the shelf-sonic screwdriver at the ready. Said customer's eyes widened a bit, grin quickly dropping to a concerned frown, as he mumbled, "…I should go."

The young woman raised a brow, before looking at her watch, "Looks like it IS getting late-almost 11 o' clock." Turning her head to him, she smirked, "But we don't close 'till midnight, so you still got plenty of time to look around."

The gentleman swiveled on his heel, quickly eying the place, before giving her a similar smirk, "Alrighty then. Thanks."

"If you need anything, just give a shout", she added, before nodding to him and walking away.

So much for being an ambassador. At least she couldn't say she didn't try her best. And it killed a lot of time too; only one more hour and she was free to go home. In that case, she figured, maybe she should engage the customers more often? Speaking of whom, even as she walked away, she just couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity with that guy; she KNEW she saw him before. But how? They never met before, and on top of all that, he was from another country!

"I MUST be going crazy if I think I know him", Carol thought.

Trying to forget about the man for a moment, the clerk wandered over to the video game department to check on Dave. The two hadn't spoken to each other for almost the whole shift, and admittedly, he looked kind of lonely standing amongst a stack of Wii's with no one to sell them to. Seeing her approach, he hopped off the register counter doubling as his seat and closed the gap.

"Hey", she greeted in a bored tone, "Anything new happenin'?"

To that, Dave just crossed his arms and gave Carol a sideways glare that seemed to say "you already know the answer". But realizing she was just looking for a conversation, he sighed, "Other than watching Mario and Luigi for five hours, no."

The young woman let her arms hang in defeat as she groaned, "When is this night ever gonna' end? There's nothin' to do!" She threw her hands in the air, as if complaining would solve the problem.

"Easy for you to say", he countered, "I'm stuck in this one area all night-YOU at least get to walk around and mingle."

Well, she couldn't really argue with that. No one really favored the video game department for how lonesome it could get. She then turned a ways and pointed in the direction she'd come, "In that case, maybe I can convince that guy to come over; he's a bit of a talker."

Dave followed her gaze; watching as Mr. Smith returned to whistling-picking out a few items as he went along. The clerk's brow went up, utterly dumbfounded, "I can't believe it…someone's ACTUALLY going over there?"

"And here you thought it was a waste", Carol smiled; proud that she proved him wrong for once, "Although, he IS British."

"Ah", Dave nodded his head, as if that explained everything. There was a pause as the two employees watched the man in silence; the gaming expert tilting his head as he gave the customer a better look. Turning to Carol, he broke the pause, "He DOES kinda' look like someone who'd watch Dr. Who, though."

She faced him, confused, "Whadda' ya' mean?"

Dave then closed one eye and held his hand out, as if he was doing a profile, "Come on; look at him. Glasses, messy hair, and look how he's dressed. He just screams 'geek'."

At that point, Carol ignored him, knowing another rant was coming on. And yet, she couldn't help but pay attention when Dave mentioned the man's clothes. Brown, pinstripe suit…converse shoes…wait a minute…

Her eyes squinted as she looked closer…those eyes…that hair…that voice…

…John Smith…

And it was then that her face wore the biggest look of disbelief anyone had seen…it couldn't be…it just couldn't…

Suddenly, she was snapped from her thoughts when she felt Dave poking her in the arm, "Hey. Don't look now, but your friend there wants to check out."

Carol almost didn't hear what he said; still too caught up in the revelation she was coming to. But she couldn't possibly accept what her mind was suggesting-it just wasn't possible. And yet, there was Mr. Smith; looking over the trinkets he picked out-patiently waiting for someone to ring him up. Said someone looked to Dave, who glanced back at her before taking a step back, "Don't look at me-I'm on restock duty tonight."

With that, he shot her a look that said, "YOU deal with the weirdo", before sauntering away, leaving Carol to stare at her register with uncertainty. The man, on the other hand, fished through his pockets; that playful grin still on his face. With one, final sigh, the young woman trudged over to the counter, wondering just WHAT she was getting into with this guy.

Before the first word escaped her mouth, Mr. Smith spoke up, "Well, 'ello again."

His smile was downright infectious, as attested by the fact that she couldn't help but smirk back. That didn't change her touch of anxiety, however. Trying to keep cool, she replied, "Well, I…see you found some stuff."

Both cashier and customer glanced down to look at a companion three-pack made up of Rose Tyler, Martha Jones, and Donna Noble; a sonic screwdriver, and a miniature Tardis. The man's eyes darted back to Carol as he blushed, "Yep. Goes to show you never know what you'll run into."

"Rrrright", she nodded; noting the sheer irony of that statement. Quicker than usual, she scanned the items and threw them all into one, giant bag, before totaling up everything and asking, "Cash, check, debit, or credit?"

Mr. Smith blinked a moment, as if he wasn't paying attention. But soon, he nodded his head; realizing he still had to pay. He dug through his pockets, mumbling one word, "Paper".

He spoke it so quietly, Carol didn't catch what he said. But before she could ask again, he finally found what he was looking for. He pulled out, what appeared to be, a small, brown wallet. As he flipped it open, she fully expected him to pull out either cash or a credit card. But instead, he merely slapped the whole thing face down on the credit machine; the screen making the usual beep. Strange as it was, Carol figured it was just a new card of some kind, since she wasn't on the up and up about credit in the first place…at least, that's what she kept telling herself.

The cashier took one more glance around, with a preoccupied Dave being the only one in sight. She then turned back to her customer; the likes of whom was getting all his stuff together. She let out an uncomfortable cough, "So…how much longer are you gonna' be in town?"

"Not much longer", he answered; pulling a piece of fuzz out of his hair and flicking it away, "Got places to go-people to see."

The young woman eyed him with uncertainty; gauging whether she should be relieved or disappointed in that, "…think you'll be back?"

Mr. Smith threw his head around, giving the store a once over, "I'd say so". He looked back to her and grinned, "It's…interesting."

That's all he had to say? "Interesting?" Well, judging by his smile, at least he had nothing negative to add. He then tilted his head, giving her an odd look. Realizing that he picked up on her anxiety, she sighed, "Sorry for being so nervous." She rubbed the back of her head, turning beet red, "I…thought you were shoplifting at first…"

At that confession, the man let out a huge laugh, before pointing to himself, "Who, ME? A thief?" He waved an arm, "Nah…"

Carol chuckled along with him, though she wasn't entirely sure if he was joking or not. With one sweep of the hand, Mr. Smith scooped up his goodie bag, before trotting away in the same manner when he came in. All the while, the clerk watched him go-still pondering on the ludicrous theory her mind had conjured up. And yet, one last word just had to escape her, "…have a nice night."

The man turned for only a moment to give her one last smile and nod of the head, "You do the same." Turning on his heel, he added in, "Donna'll get a kick outta' these."

He then left the store.

…and it was then that Carol's heart nearly stopped…Donna…did he say…DONNA?

Dave was putting the last game on the shelf, when he heard a voice shout, "WAAAIIIT!" The sudden yell cut through the quiet like a knife through butter, and he whipped around just in time to see Carol sprinting out the door like her life depended on it. The clerk immediately ran towards her, wondering what all the excitement was about. He made it out the first door and barreled through the inner hall, then nearly collided with the young woman as he made it outside. She was standing ramrod straight, and to have almost crashed into her, needless to say, he was annoyed.

"Carol? What the hell?" he shouted, "Why the heck are you screaming…?"

But his voice trailed off from there, as his eyes caught sight of what the girl was starring at in total disbelief. It took him a moment to realize what it was, and when he did, he grew just as amazed and silent as his co-worker.

Far off in the distance, in a shadowy back corner of the parking lot, the duo could just make out, what looked like, a dark blue telephone booth-it's shape highlighted just enough to see by the overhead streetlight.

…and within a moment, the box vanished into thin air, without a trace of its existence left behind…

For a full minute, both Carol and Dave stood in a complete state of shock; left to wonder if either of them still had a tentative grip on their sanity. Finally, Dave spoke-his usual, boastful voice now a whisper, "…did you see that…?"

Carol nodded ever so slightly.

Dave took a gulp, "…w-was that…the…the real…?"

Carol never let him finish his sentence. Instead, she took him by the shoulder and ushered him back inside.

"I think we better start locking up…" she mumbled. Glancing over her shoulder one last time, she sputtered, "…it's been a long night…"


End file.
